Fairytale of New York
by 2NYwLove
Summary: The latest Don Flack/Gus Broussard installment. Settling into married life, how will the pair juggle being life and work partners? Are they allowed a happy ever after in the city that never sleeps? (Season 8). Features entire team.


**Chapter One: Got on a lucky one**

**_Starting off with S08E01, sorry if you were hoping for a honeymoon chapter. Maybe it'll get a one shot someday. Dialog you recognize doesn't belong to me, yadda yadda. Hope all of my old readers continue on with the further adventures of Gus and Don. Posted in honor of sarahmichellegellarfan1, who may hold the new record on binge reading my works!_**

* * *

"What do we have?" Gus asked, slipping out of her jacket and putting it on the back of her chair, waiting for the figure across the way to hang up the phone.

"Nice of you to join us, Detective," he smirked, adding, "don't get too comfy, lab was able to trace a cell phone from the bar robbery. Vest up, sunshine," Don said with a wink, removing his watch and carefully tucking the chain his wedding band was on under his button-down, Gus mirroring his actions.

Don filled her in on the details of the homicide scene he had been called out to shortly before sunrise, the bouncer found dead in the gutter out in front of the bar by his co-worker after being held up as they were counting the previous night's haul. Apparently a few regulars from the service industry were hanging around after hours; shooting pool and hanging out. The perps thinking they were being wise by taking their cell phones, not realizing Adam would remotely turn one on and locate their hideout. Which apparently was a flea-bag hotel room in Alphabet City.

"Nice uniform," Gus teased Danny as they gathered in the threadbare vestibule that served as a lobby.

Danny smirked at her, "It's been three months, that's getting old, Broussard, er, Flack, uh, Gus!"

"Broussard at work, Dan-o," Don remarked, coming up behind them, absently tightening the velcro on Gus' vest. "Now we done chatting so we can get these morons?"

* * *

"A white guy named Mike Black and a black guy named Mike White, what are the freaking odds?" Don said, shaking his head as he shoved the two suspects towards the uniforms.

Gus gave a shrug, "don't know, but I bet you Sheldon would," she said with a smile, tearing off her vest as soon as they reached the car. Don gave her a look. "What? I waited until we got back to the car, blue eyes. How many times do I have to tell you department issued vests are not made for women. Wish we could have registered for work gear instead of stupid house stuff," she finished with a sigh.

Don couldn't help but laugh, "don't ever let anyone tell you you aren't a hopeless romantic." He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel before asking, "so how was he?"

Gus wrinkled her nose, "Mac? He was, well, Mac." Gus had met her uncle before they both went into work; having promised to have breakfast together on what was bound to be an emotionally heavy day for them, even if they refused to admit it. "Working on a Sunday, forgetting that he is in a civilian lab, apparently. Not that I would expect anything else; especially not today." She looked out the window, letting out a small sigh.

Don reached over and squeezed her thigh, grateful to have her beside him not only in life, but also at work again.

They had spent a large majority of their all too brief honeymoon in their private cabin on Lake Placid, not just in the hand-built feather bed; but also on the screened-in porch. Curled up, drinking wine, talking about the future. They both realized how much they missed having Gus in homicide; that while she had done well in special vics, it had always been an escape for her. She desperately missed the camaraderie of the pit, and her lab family. Not to mention neither of them liked relying on others, nor did they truly trust anyone to have their backs in a way that equaled their partnership.

* * *

_Doyle knew from the second Gus stepped back into the pen from her honeymoon, not looking so much relaxed as resolute. "You aren't quitting, are you, Broussard?"_

_Gus shook her head, "you really think I'm the barefoot in the kitchen housewife type, Doyle?" she teased._

_He let out a snort before shaking his head, looking downcast. "Let me guess, that's a request to transfer back to homicide and Daddino's already signed it."_

_Gus nodded, feeling slightly wistful. She sat on the chair in front of his desk. "It's been great working with you, we make a good team, but it just isn't what I need to be doing right now."_

_"I get it, Broussard. I know even with trying to cut your hours, you and Flack still never saw each other. It's tough being married and a cop. Let alone to a cop. Not to mention you two are scary good partners. Daddino's COMSTAT numbers are going to jump through the roof again." Doyle gave her a long and serious look before continuing. "Just so you know, if you want to come back, I will always make a spot for you, no questions asked. Or if circumstances change and you need to be behind a desk…" he trailed off._

_Gus fought the urge to roll her eyes, knowing he was trying to be sweet. "Thanks, Jimmy. Now tell me about the sweet young OCCB detective you brought to my wedding."_

_"She ain't that young, she's almost your age, Broussard!" Doyle shot back._

_Gus mocked glared at him, "I don't think I like that implication, Jameson!" she admonished._

_Doyle did not suppress his eye roll. "Just get your ass back down to homicide, Broussard, before you get everyone calling me that!"_

* * *

"Slam dunk," Don told Jo as they got back to the precinct, the two Mikes already sitting in interview rooms.

"Confession would be nice," Jo remarked, trying to puzzle through the two men's names.

"Agreed," Gus remarked.

Don gave them both a look, "property, bloody clothing, both guns and two perps that aren't exactly brain surgeons. They'll give it up."

"I'll take, that one," Jo said, pointing toward one of the rooms, "you take the one withdrawing. Augusta, observe?"

"Did he seriously call you, ma'am? Ivy League kids aren't that polite these days, let alone perps," Gus said as Jo exited her interview.

Don emerged from next door, saying, "he's either an amazing liar or I'm not as good at this as I thought."

"Could be the marriage curse," Jo teased, laughing as she saw the look on his face, "I'm just kidding, Flack, my Mike is singing the same song. Oh, Sheldon," she said, looking up as the door opened, "tell me you have something?"

"Nothing good, guns from the hotel room didn't match the bullet from Peterson's body. We either have a missing gun or a missing third suspect," Sheldon said with a sigh.

* * *

"How much coffee did you have at breakfast with Mac?" Don asked, looking at Gus as she tapped her pen against her desk, impatiently waiting for the lab to give them something.

"Like three cups, Flack, which you know is practically nothing for me. They make you captain of the caffeine police or something?" she shot back.

"Good to know marriage hasn't mellowed either of you," Thatcher quipped from across the way.

"Screw off," they quipped in unison, getting a chuckle out of the rest of the guys in the pit.

Gus looked from the clock to her watch, "you got the same time, blue eyes?" she said, working her jaw.

"We'll make it, sunshine, promise," Don said, reaching across their desks and squeezing her hand, "we got tons of time."

As if to support his statement, the phone on his desk started ringing, the lab's number flashing on the screen. Gus pounced on it, "tell me you got something," she said, as Don shook his head with a smile, it was nice having her back.

* * *

"Everybody lies," Gus remarked as Jo showed them the evidence proving Devon, the waitress at the bar, had still been at the scene when Sean Peterson was killed.

"And there is our liar, right now," Don remarked, pointing to Devon walking down the block across the street from them, "thanks, Danny, er, Sergeant," he corrected, looking down into the patrol car in front of them, a nervous probie behind the wheel.

"My work here is done, back to it, Hayes," he said, giving Don a small salute.

Gus watched as Don's eyes traveled to the black band around Danny's badge, his eyes go unfocused. She knew he was going back to that fateful September day. She wanted to reach for his hand, to comfort him, but she knew they had to face the task at hand, and hopefully get a speedy confession out of Devon.

And they did, Jo laying out the evidence, the waitress crumbling under the weight of her guilt. She explained how she had linked up with White Mike, had gotten hooked on the oxy he dealt, owed him a lot of money. The trio had concocted the scheme, thinking nobody would get hurt. Until Sean Peterson realized his friend and co-worker was involved and she shot him in a panic.

"I'll never forget the look on his face," Devon, said, tearing up.

"It is fitting on a day like today the image of an innocent man dying will be etched in your mind for the rest of your life," Jo said, looking at Devon with a resolute but sad expression.

Gus saw the furrow form on Devon's brow as Don cuffed her, her heart feeling like it was stabbed as the young woman said, "What do you mean? What's today?"

Don looked at her, his jaw tightening in anger as he yanked on Devon's arms, but his eyes full of concern as they locked on his wife's at her sharp intake of breath. "Let's go," he snarled, pushing Devon out of the bar.

* * *

Mac's number flashed on Gus' phone screen, right as she and Don were headed up to the lab. "I'll meet you up there, I think Mac is checking in on us," she said, "and fix your tie, blue eyes," she called as the elevator doors closed.

"We are meeting up now, Uncle Mac," she said by way of answering, "though I am sure you are going to give me some lame excuse for calling instead of just admitting you were getting antsy."

Mac let out a gruff laugh, saying, "just know you and Jo run on Southern time," he said.

"Hey now," she admonished, "oh dear lord," she said, catching sight of Danny, "we'll see you soon, Mac, now I gotta go and help Danny." She adjusted Danny's tie in the elevator on the way up, "did you and Don forget how to tie ties?" she smirked.

"Yeah, you give up that ability when you say your vows," he quipped, giving her a smile. "You clean up nice, BB."

"Thanks, heck of a lot easier to move in this than that wedding dress, though," she replied, gesturing to her dress as they came up on the lab.

"Whoa, it's the crew," Danny said with a laugh, feeling slightly wistful since he didn't get to see them every day. Gus saw the look in his eyes, knew what he was feeling, having felt the same the entire time she wasn't working in homicide. She squeezed his elbow slightly as he covered with a "where's Adam and what's her name?"

They all laughed, as Danny called out to his wife; deep in conversation with Adam in an office, helping him with his own tie. "Maybe it isn't just a vow thing," Gus remarked, getting a curious look from Don. "Tying ties, much better by the way," she remarked, tugging on his, bringing him down for a kiss.

"All Jo," he admitted sheepishly, "I'm out of practice."

Gus felt herself holding her breath as Mac walked up to the podium in front of the wall emblazoned with the names and images of the 417 fallen first responders from Brooklyn, letting it out slowly as he gave his emotional speech.

Don stared straight ahead, next to her, though his hand reached for hers, slipping his fingers through hers, squeezing gently the entire speech, until they all stood to clap; even then, stopping sooner to wrap his arm around her waist. "Love you, Gussie," he whispered in her ear, landing a kiss on her temple.

"For always, Don," she replied, leaning against him, soaking up his strength.


End file.
